


Into the Dark Night - Outtakes

by tsuki_llama



Category: Darker Than Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuki_llama/pseuds/tsuki_llama
Summary: An extra scene from Into the Dark Night, after Tian and Xing leave. From the family's point of view.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Into the Dark Night - Outtakes

**Author's Note:**

> Another lost file! This chapter is an outtake from Into the Dark Night. I've written some scenes here and there that were useful for plotting and character purposes, but aren't going to be published as part of the final story. 
> 
> This takes place June 27, 1998, on the morning following Chapter 19. (No spoilers, unless you've read literally nothing else of mine. In which case...super major spoiler?).

Jiao-tu hopped impatiently from one foot to the other. “Where _are_ they, we’re going to be late!”

Her brother was peering down the street. He shrugged, frowning a little. “They were late the other day.”

“Not _this_ late. We’re going to miss the start of class!”

Jiao-tu had been late for class only once before, when her mother had taken her to an early doctor’s appointment. She’d gotten to school a whole hour after the bell rang, and all the other students had watched her as she took her seat. It had been horrible.

Jiang sighed. “Maybe we should just leave without them?”

“But what if we leave and they get here and then they’re late because we’re not here and they were waiting?”

“Tian’s not that stupid,” Jiang snorted; but he hesitated, glancing down the street again. “Go ask Mom what we should do.”

Jiao-tu huffed at the order, but she ran to the house anyway. Their mother was in the kitchen, washing the dishes from breakfast while Grandmother dried them.

“ _Xiao-_ tu, you should be at school already!” Mom said in surprise when Jiao-tu entered.

“I know,” she said, drawing in a deep breath, “but Tian and Xing aren’t here yet and Jiang wants to know should we wait or should we leave without them.”

Both women frowned. “That’s odd,” Grandmother said. “They weren’t going up to the lake again this weekend, were they?”

Mom shook her head. “No, An told me just the other day that they’d be here for dinner tomorrow. Jiao-tu, you and Jiang shouldn’t wait; there’s no point in all four of you being late.”

“But, I wanted to talk to Xing…” She plucked at her dragon charm, as if just touching it would imbue her with dragon-bravery. She hadn’t exactly been looking forward to this morning: another long walk to school with Xing either refusing to acknowledge her existence, or telling her how terrible she was at everything.

But last night Grandfather had told her that she needed to stop running from the things that upset her, and just talk with Xing about it. He’d offered to sit down with them and talk together, but she wanted to try it on her own first. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

“There will be plenty of time to talk later. Now go on!” Mom made a shooing motion with her dishtowel. Then she turned back to the sink. “I don’t like it; I knew I should have offered to drive them all this morning,” she began as Jiao-tu scurried out.

There was still no sign of Tian or Xing when she reached the gate.

“Mom says to go,” she told Jiang.

“Yeah,” Jiang said, “I guess we should.”

He took one last, long look down the street. Jiao-tu stared as well. She wondered what could be keeping them. Maybe they’d been up late stargazing; Tian had said that he and Uncle were going to set up the telescope. Though why they wanted to look for stars that probably weren’t even real was beyond her.

Then she realized that her brother had already turned and was walking briskly in the opposite direction.

“Jiang, wait up, you dummy!”

“Grow longer legs, Little Rabbit.”

“Shut up, I’m not a rabbit!” Jiao-tu ran to keep up. She wished that Tian was there; at least _he_ was always nice to her.

~~~~o~~~~

Hong set the last of the practice mats atop the stack, taking a moment to even it out.

“I love teaching the little ones,” he commented, “but maybe we should invest in some stepladders, so they can put the tumbling equipment away themselves.” Older students were required to clean up the studio after every class; but it wasn’t reasonable to ask four-year-olds to do much more than help wipe down the floor.

His father didn’t look up from the small table in the corner, where he sat engrossed in the morning newspaper. “Stop complaining. Good discipline builds good character; you’re never too old for discipline.”

“When was the last time you put away the mats, old man?” Hong asked with a grin.

In his wushu studio, Xu Man would answer to no names other than _Shifu-Xu_ or _Shifu-Grandfather_ , and he was not to be argued with; his students would be shocked to learn that their teacher was human after all.

Xu Man twitched a smile. “Let it never be said that I deprived others of the opportunity to build character.”

Hong settled in the seat across from Xu Man and reached for the tea kettle; it was still just hot enough to drink. “Anything in the paper?” he asked, pouring himself out a cup.

His father turned the page with a look of mild disgust. “Words,” was all he said, but Hong knew what he meant. Even in the best of times, Xu Man had little favorable to say about the government; but ever since the disaster in Tokyo, the Party had been even more reticent with information than usual.

“I still haven’t been able to find out exactly what happened with the Hons,” Hong said quietly, even though there were no other ears in the room to overhear the conversation. “Mrs. Hon supposedly left to stay with a relative this morning, but the neighbor said that she had a police escort.”

Xu Man didn’t comment, but Hong could see his jaw tighten slightly.

This had always been such a peaceful neighborhood. Hong and his sister had grown up here, and most of the other residents had as well; some as many as three or four generations back. It was worrying to see such violence so close to home.

“Has Grandmother talked to you about taking the kids out of school?”

“Your mother worries too much.” Xu Man made a dismissive motion that was betrayed by the concern in his eyes. “They only have a week left, in any case.”

Hong nodded, taking a sip of tea. He’d said as much to Yafang, but she’d already picked up on her mother-in-law’s apprehensions.

“What about Xinkun’s offer to spend the summer break with them in Zhangjiaping? I know you don’t want to shut down the school, but it might be nice to get away from the city for a while. Especially right now.”

“It’s a small house.”

“We have the camping gear.”

His father hesitated. “I haven’t been spending much time with the kids lately…”

“And _Xiao_ -tu and Xing will have to work out their problems, if they’re going to be cooped up together for an entire month,” Hong pointed out. Then he sighed. “I never would have expected Xing of all people to cause so much trouble. I guess there’s more of An in her than we thought.”

That got a smile out of his father. “How many times did your sister run away from home?”

“A dozen, at least,” Hong laughed. “No matter how often you scolded her about being a better example for her little brother. But she settled down at last; I’m sure it will be the same with Xing.”

Xu Man nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “It’s Tian I’m more concerned about.”

“Tian? I thought he was making some real progress this week.”

His nephew had always had great potential, if only he could get over his reluctance to fight an opponent. But the _shifu_ had forbidden Hong to push the boy during sparring (though he refused to explain why), so Hong had left it alone. It had been encouraging to see Tian begin to shed some of his insecurities at last night’s practice, and go on the offensive for once.

“That is what worries me.”

Hong’s eyebrows rose. “Why? Is this about the fight with that older boy last week? I know that was out of character for Tian, but I doubt it’ll ever happen again; I’ve never seen anyone carrying so much guilt. Jiang could learn a thing or two from him,” he added, somewhat cynically. He knew his son would never harm anyone without a reason, but it was going to take a lot of work to get his temper under control. He sighed. “Tian is a sensitive boy, and he’ll grow into a sensitive man. Like his father.”

Hong remembered the first time that An had brought Xinkun home to meet the family. The tall, lanky youth from the country who preferred books to sports had seemed like such a poor match for her that he’d assumed that it was nothing more than her latest rebellion.

But it hadn’t taken long for him to see that he was completely wrong: Xinkun was calm water to An’s burning fire, solid earth to her capricious winds. They balanced each other perfectly, and their children were a perfect blend of their personalities, sweet-tempered and full of life.

“Out of character? Maybe.”

“You don’t think so?”

Xu Man was silent for a long moment before he spoke. “Jiang is rash, yes; but he knows exactly what he is capable of, and he knows the consequences of his actions. Tian…Tian is impulsive as well, but he is willfully blind to himself. And I’ve encouraged that. Sensitivity is a great strength; but a man cannot be of two minds about his own nature.”

He was probably reading too much into the situation, Hong thought. All children went through these stages of self-discovery; it was part of growing up.

“Well,” he said, “I’m sure that without the distractions of the city, you’ll have a chance to have a long talk with Tian about this.”

“You’ve already convinced me; no need to push it,” his father said irritably.

Hong smiled. He wasn’t going to admit it to anyone, but he was just as anxious to get out of the city as Yafang was; it just didn’t feel safe here anymore.

The two men drank their tea in companionable silence. Xu Man returned to the paper, while Hong gazed around the little studio. He had so many fond memories of this room: training for competitions with his friends; that time one of his teammates had claimed that girls didn’t belong in wushu, and An had proceeded to kick the boy’s ass; introducing his own son to his favorite sport and watching him learn and grow. And someday he’d teach his grandchildren here, and his sister’s grandchildren as well. He smiled at the thought.

The door to the studio opened quietly; Hong glanced up to see his wife enter, but his smile slipped when he saw the worry etched on her face.

“What is it?” he asked. His father set down the newspaper.

Yafang folded her arms across her chest as if she was cold, though the late morning was hot and muggy. “The school just called,” she said. “Tian and Xing never showed up for class, and they couldn’t get a hold of anyone at the apartment.”

“Did you try calling?”

She nodded. “No answer.”

That was odd: if the kids were too sick for school, An would have stayed home with them, or else brought them over here for Yafang to look after.

Yafang continued, “I tried calling An at work, but the nurse on duty said she’d never checked in, and hadn’t called to say she was going to be out today. And I tried calling the country house just in case, but there’s no one there either.”

“If they’re going to Zhangjiaping, they’d still be on the bus,” Xu Man said softly. “But they always let us know when they head up there, and An wouldn’t leave her shift uncovered. Xinkun?”

She shook her head. “There was no answer at his office, but if he’s teaching right now he wouldn’t be there anyway. I didn’t know who else to try.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Hong said with more confidence than he felt. “I’ll walk down and see if anyone’s home.”

~~~~o~~~~

They’d probably just gone up to the country for the weekend, Hong told himself. It was the only explanation that made any sense. Even if they had just spent last weekend there. And neglected to tell anyone that they were leaving again.

It was an easy four blocks to the Li family’s apartment building. Unfortunately, Hong was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t realize that his route would take him past Hon’s barber shop until he was already upon it. The windows were dark behind tightly-closed curtains, and a faded “Closed” sign hung on the door. There was a dull red stain on the sidewalk just outside the entrance; Hong stepped uneasily around it.

All was peaceful when he reached the apartment building. The streets were empty of children; but then, it was mid-morning on a Friday, and all but the youngest would be in school, and parents were keeping a closer eye on them than usual these days.

An elderly woman with her hair still in rollers was sitting on the lowest step of the staircase, smoking a cigarette. Hong excused himself politely and squeezed around her. The woman ignored him.

When he reached the third floor, the corridor stretched away ahead of him, looking longer than it usually did. Hong found himself momentarily frozen on the landing; then he took a mental breath.

Everything was fine; the kids had been running late, and An had forgotten to call the hospital and let them know that she wouldn’t be on time. They’d left the apartment by the time the school and Yafang had called.

That was all.

Hong strode purposefully down to the second-to-last door. The window was shuttered, and no light was shining through the cracks. He knocked on the door, and waited.

There was no answer.

Hong peered through a crack in the shutter; the interior was too dark to make out much beyond an indistinct shape lying on the floor in the center of the room. Perhaps Xinkun had been tinkering with that telescope of his and left it out. Though it looked a bit too big for that. Laundry, maybe?

He knocked again, this time loud enough that anyone who was asleep in one of the bedrooms ought to hear. There was still no answer.

_See_ , he told himself, _no one’s home. You’re letting your emotions get the better of your common sense_.

Still, he had better make sure, if only to put Yafang’s mind at ease.

An always kept a spare key beneath the bamboo doormat for when the kids got home before her, or in case of emergencies. The mat was sitting at an odd angle, as if it had been accidentally kicked aside or hastily replaced; but the key was there. Hong unlocked the door and went in, flicking on the lights.

His sister and her husband were lying on the floor, unmoving. Hong stared, uncomprehending, for a full minute before the reality sunk in. Then a wave of nausea hit him so hard that he barely made it back out the door before vomiting in the corridor.

As he stood, doubled-over and shaking and trying to suppress another rise of bile, his mind tried to offer any explanation but the truth - they were asleep; they were just ill, and too weak to move - but he couldn’t deny it.

He’d left the door wide open; anyone could just walk in. Hong staggered back into the apartment and shut the door behind him before going to the kitchen to rinse his mouth. He splashed his face with the cold water for good measure.

It was only after the initial shock had worn off that he remembered the kids.

“Xing!” he called in a hoarse whisper as he ran to their bedroom. “Tian!”

The bedroom door was open. The room was a mess: schoolbooks, papers, and clothes were scattered across the floor.

Was it normally like that? He couldn’t remember.

Their beds were empty, but the window was open. Hong stepped over to it and looked out – nothing except a three-story drop to the ground below. He stooped to peer under the beds, but there was nothing their either except for a few mislaid toys.

He tried his sister’s room next. Her room was tidy, the bed neatly made, but it was just as empty. So was Xinkun’s office; so was the tiny bathroom. He even looked through all of the kitchen cabinets, even the ones too small for a child Xing’s size to squeeze into, before he could admit to himself that they just weren’t there.

Slowly, he stepped back into the main room, now unable to take his eyes off of the bodies of his sister and brother-in-law.

Xinkun had died first, it seemed. He lay on his back; there such a look of shock and horror on his face, eyes staring blindly at the ceiling, but Hong couldn’t tell if that had been his reaction to death or if…or if that was just what faces did after the life had fled from them.

An was draped across her husband’s chest - protecting him, Hong was sure.

Neither of them had any sort of wound or mark that he could see. Except for An: climbing up her from beneath the collar of her scrubs, from her shoulder, up her neck, and finally spreading across her cheek, was an oddly fern-like, branching pattern, like a scar but not. Hong had never seen anything like it.

He had no idea how long he stood there, staring. It felt like years before he was finally able to will his body to move again.

The phone was on the wall next to kitchen. He reached behind him and lifted the receiver. He fumbled it at first; when he managed to get a good grip, he dialed home.

His father answered on the first ring.

“It’s me,” Hong said dully. “I’m at the apartment.”

“Is anyone there?”

“I can’t find the kids anywhere; I’ve searched every place that I could think of.”

He hadn’t checked with the neighbors; maybe they had been frightened and had run next door.

“An and Xinkun?” his father said quietly.

Hong squeezed his eyes shut. “They’re here. Dad, don’t -”

There was a click as his father hung up the phone.


End file.
